


A Day in November

by orphan_account



Series: Arthur, Charles, Javier, and Albert [3]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: A Little Slice Of Life, Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arthur Morgan has a praise kink, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Arthur Morgan, Breast Fucking, Chubby!Arthur, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Cooking, DONT LET THE MULTIPLE RELATIONSHIP TAGS FOOL YOU, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Pairings, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, References to Shakespeare, Rimming, Soft cowboys, THIS IS A POLY FIC AND EVERYONE LOVES EACH OTHER, Tenderness, they all live in a cabin in the woods and they're happy :), this thing is just all over the place isn't it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21576526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Albert straightens up suddenly, flustered. “Oh, I just can’t stand the waiting! We’re standing here making idle conversation and tidying up when I could be ravishing the two of you! Where the devil is Javier anyway?! We said we’d make a day of this, and--” and Charles touches him gently on the bicep, and he stops immediately.His voice is low and soothing as he tightens his grip on Albert's arm, grounding him. “Hey. We’re getting there, yeah?”Albert takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I know, I know. I'm okay. I’ll-- I’m calm.” and he touches Charles where his hand is still a comforting weight on his arm. “Thank you.”He hadn’t noticed Arthur coming up behind him, and when he wraps his arms around his waist and presses his lips to the crook of his neck, Albert sighs and melts into the touch. “Thank you both. Forgive me for my impetuousness.”“‘S’alright. I’m excited too,” Arthur murmurs into his neck. Albert is suddenly aware of something hard prodding the small of his back, and he breathes an “oh.”//In which the OT4 set aside a day just for their Arthur, and find some creative ways to pass the time while they wait for a pot roast to cook.
Relationships: Albert Mason/Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith, Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith/Albert Mason/Javier Escuella, Javier Escuella/Arthur Morgan
Series: Arthur, Charles, Javier, and Albert [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586119
Comments: 19
Kudos: 97





	A Day in November

**Author's Note:**

> hHHHHH i really didn't intend to make this 13k words I am so sorry. This idea just,, uhhhhh. yeah. Anyways, fair warnings: gratuitous use of the double hyphen and italics-- I make apologies to no one in this regard.

Arthur bustles about the kitchen, mixing up the last of the cookie dough using some of their good white sugar from town and dried blueberries-- he doesn't usually bake them with the expensive sugar, but it  _ is  _ a special occasion after all. It’s mid November, and all four of them are going to spend the day inside. He might as well put some venison into the big stoneware slow cooker while he's at it, they have time enough. Albert busies himself somewhere behind him, rearranging the cushions on their big bed, adding an extra sheet or two, changing and re-changing the stack of cups by the bed. Arthur smiles. He can tell Albert’s nervous, for all the tittering about he’s been up to for the last day or so. 

Charles emerges from the cellar carrying a sack of food and supply, shutting the door behind him with a click. He moves to the other side of the bed, where Albert had moved the nightstand to make room for the coffee table, and begins emptying the bag of its contents. A bag of hickory smoked venison, tied up neatly in cheesecloth, some rosemary bread that Arthur had baked the morning before, a few bunches of grapes from the backyard, a jar of peanut butter, some cheese, and a few tins of Vaseline. The last items made him smirk just a little as he laid them out, knowing that they'd probably go through them quickly today. 

“Should we bother with silverware?” he asks, eyeing the peanut butter. 

Albert looks up, pondering. Whatever he was going to say in response dies in his throat, because his eyes catch on Arthur as he bends to put the cookies into the wood oven. Charles and Albert are momentarily distracted, staring hungrily at Arthur’s ass, and he's wearing just his long johns and a messy apron. It’s cold outside but he’s been baking all morning, warm and comfortable. A little too warm if he’s honest, a few drops of sweat slide their way down his skin, the line of his back, the crest of his forehead. 

“Uhh, maybe just butter knives?” Arthur replies, straightening, oblivious. Charles and Albert share a glance, and Albert goes beet red, busying himself again with the sheets. 

Arthur notices the silence, turning to the two of them before Albert has a chance to duck away. He frowns. “Y’alright, Al?”

“Yes yes, just fine," he squeaks out.

“Nervous?” Charles asks softly.

Albert swallows, nods. Charles and Arthur share a look. “Anythin’ we can do?” asks Arthur.

Albert straightens up suddenly, flustered. “Oh, I just  _ can’t stand _ the waiting! We’re standing here making idle conversation and tidying up when I could be  _ ravishing  _ the two of you! Where the devil is Javier anyway?! We said we’d make a  _ day  _ of this, and--” and Charles touches him gently on the bicep, and he stops immediately. 

His voice is low and soothing as he tightens his grip on Albert's arm, grounding him. “Hey. We’re getting there, yeah?”

Albert takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I know, I know. I'm okay. I’ll-- I’m calm.” and he touches Charles where his hand is still a comforting weight on his arm. “Thank you.”

He hadn’t noticed Arthur coming up behind him, and when he wraps his arms around his waist and presses his lips to the crook of his neck, Albert sighs and melts into the touch. “Thank you both. Forgive me for my impetuousness.”

“‘S’alright. I’m excited too,” Arthur murmurs into his neck. Albert is suddenly aware of something hard prodding the small of his back, and he breathes an “oh.”  _ Oh.  _

“Hey now, wait ‘till Javier gets back,” Charles scolds with amusement. He sits down on the bed and reclines against the headboard, watching the two with a twinkle in his eye.

“Mmmm, just a quick one?” Arthur asks with a devilish smile pressed into Albert’s shoulder. He knows the answer before he’s even asked, but the way Albert’s ears go hot makes him chuckle even as Charles tosses him a stern stare. 

They stand like that for a minute, just drinking in the other’s presence, rocking gently back and forth. Arthur humms another kiss into Albert’s neck and loosens his arms from his waist. “You wanna go get some more firewood while I finish up the cookies?” he asks quietly.

Albert breathes again, deep and slow. “Of course darling. Charles dear, do you need anything while I’m out?”

Charles considers for a moment. “Just check on the horses, make sure they’ve got their blankets. It’s going to snow later.”

Albert nods, and he and Arthur part with a hand trailing down his wrist. 

“Hang in there, we’re almost done,” Arthur murmurs. Albert’s expression softens. The blush still dusting his cheeks is irresistible, and Arthur places a kiss on his nose. Albert huffs with a smile and they part, and Albert goes to don his winter coat from the hook by the door, Arthur picks up the wooden spoon and watches him go. 

The door opens and closes, and in place of their Albert a cold gust of wind sweeps through the little cabin. 

"You sure he's alright to do this?" Charles asks, not unkindly.

"He's stronger'n he acts," Arthur reassures him without missing a beat. A smile crosses his face as he grabs a potholder and takes the previous batch of cookies out of the oven. They're fluffy, if a little undercooked, but Arthur and Javier love them that way. He licks his lips as Charles watches from the bed. 

Arthur's easy confidence is hard to doubt, and whatever fears Charles has about Albert and his lack of self-control are swiftly put to rest. He isn't one to doubt his lovers, and even though Albert had been the newest addition to their unconventional outlaw quartet, he'd taken to them like a duck to a pond, and they him. His sweetness was a breath of fresh air, his enthusiasm infectious. 

Javier, however, took a while to come around to him, as soft and pampered as he seemed in contrast to the outlaws, but as the months went on, he warmed to him just as much as Charles had. The man was simply delightful, and it was hard to deny him anything. When they'd all been together under the covers one night, Charles' hand wrapped around Arthur's cock and Albert's fingers curling against Arthur's prostate, Albert had muttered a shaky wish that they could just do this all day, pleasure Arthur between the three of them, if only just to see how many times they could make him come. Arthur had his lips wrapped around Javier's cock at that moment, but Albert's words, so uncharacteristically  _ salacious _ , had he and Javier both coming in a matter of seconds. Albert felt the satisfying clench of Arthur's orgasm around his fingers, and had assumed that they'd taken the comment as a one-off suggestion. When Charles proposed a date the next morning over coffee he'd nearly spat it out in surprise. 

It had been decided on; November 24th, a cold morning with frost still crunching on the leaf litter and the pine needles underfoot, when all their vegetables and squash had been harvested for the season, tucked safely away in the cellar. Summer berries were canned and dried, and the fattened game that Charles had helped hunt smoked or hung nearly frozen in the trees not far from the cabin. All in all, the autumn work was done, and they could set aside a day together when they weren’t all bone tired from the labor it took to keep them fed and warm. Perhaps they’d do this a few more times, when the snow was too high to leave the house and the fire never stopped burning. 

Albert tosses around the idea of perhaps celebrating Christmas like this, or if that would be too... Inappropriate. He opens the gate and ducks under the top panel to check on the horses in the barn. They aren’t stabled in the proper sense, allowing them to stretch their legs a little and roam about inside the barn. Making sure each one has their blanket on properly, he nods, satisfied, and gives his little morgan nag a pat on the shoulder. She nickers through a mouthful of hay, and he leaves before Arthur’s standardbred can nose the top panel of the gate open and escape to the corral. “Ah-ah, naughty boy,” Albert scolds with a hand on his nose. The horse snorts.

He ducks back through the door and latches the gate closed, and makes a beeline for the woodpile. He can’t wait to get back to his lovers, but he knows they’re still waiting for Javier to return from town. He’s bringing back a small wagon of supplies for the four of them, a gift from their neighbors in town, in return for a few experienced guns to drive away some cattle rustlers. It’s nice, this little place they have in the world. 

By the time he returns with an armful of split wood, Arthur has taken out the last batch of cookies and is chopping a big yellow onion to put in the pot roast. He glances up at Albert and smiles. 

“Thanks darlin’. Pot roast should be done by nightfall,” he says, putting the halved onion on top of the venison. 

Albert grins. “Oh, lovely! Lord knows we’ll have worked up quite the appetite,” he teases.

Arthur chuckles. “Yer tellin’ me. Thinkin’ about makin’ potatoes, but ah...” he glances over his shoulder at the bed. “...Might not have time.”

Albert hides a wry smile as he sets the wood down by the oven and brushes the splinters off of his sleeves. “Any word on Javier?”

“Should be any minute,” Arthur reassures as he maneuvers the heavy slow cooker onto the bottom rack of the oven. He adjusts the lid and firmly closes the door, tossing his potholder onto the counter behind him. He straightens up and adjusts his apron. “He said he should be back by morning, the drive ain’t too long.”

“Where’s Charles gone?” Albert said, shrugging off his coat. It’s blissfully warm inside.

“At the well, I think,” Arthur replies.

“Ah.” 

A moment passes in silence as Arthur turns and goes about gathering the dishes into the wash basin, rummaging around for a few seconds for a clean rag and a bit of soap. Albert’s unsure what to do with himself, so he kicks off his boots and settles on watching Arthur from the bed. Admires the planes of his muscles, the whitish scars that pockmark his back and sides, the freckles that pepper his shoulders. The line of his spine, the indents of his pelvis as he shifts his weight just so. Albert bites his lip, tightens his fist against his thigh.

Arthur can feel his eyes on him, and he raises an eyebrow to meet Albert’s gaze. “You wanna help with the dishes or just stare at my ass all day?”

Albert looks visibly flustered. “I could watch you forever, Arthur. B-but I will help, of course,” he adds hastily.

Arthur smirks. "Thought so."

Albert scrambles off the bed and nudges Arthur with his hip so he can help. They finish the dishes in only a few minutes like that, in companionable silence and sharing in each other's warmth. Arthur is the first to break the quiet as they finish, wiping his hands on a dry rag. “Sorry t’make you wait so long, I know you been lookin’ forward to today.”

“Ah-ah, today is not for me. Today is all about making  _ you  _ absolutely  _ melt _ , dearest,” Albert replies, leaning close and watching Arthur bite back a grin. “And as soon as Javier comes home, we are going to-- going to... Well...” he can’t bring himself to voice the thoughts that bring a bloom of pink to his cheeks. “Well, we’re going to do  _ something  _ alright.” Arthur doesn’t hold back his smile at that.

“You’re too good for us buncha degenerates,” he replies, bumping his shoulder against Albert’s, and Albert laughs. 

“ _ Au contraire _ , mister Morgan. I am just as degenerate as you lot, perhaps even more so.”

“How’dyou figure?”

“Ah, see--  _ I  _ was raised in a strictly monogamous and manditorily heterosexual environment.  _ I  _ knew better, and I  _ chose  _ to eschew those rules. Therefore, I am  _ fathoms  _ more degenerate than you, my darling,” Albert finishes, smug.

Arthur laughs. “You are such a bastard.”

“You’re bastard-er,” Albert replies. That makes Arthur snort and shove him with his shoulder again. Albert responds by leaning his weight heavily on Arthur, swaying for a moment as they find their balance. The back door opens with a squeak, and they don’t have to turn around to know that it’s Charles, returning with a pail of fresh water from the well. He pauses past the doorway.

“Did I miss something?” he asks, eyeing the two with amusement.

“Al’s a bastard,” Arthur quips. The photographer snorts a laugh.

“Anything I don’t already know, I mean,” he deadpans.

“Oh,  _ ouch _ ,” Albert feigns.

"C'mon, lets go wait for Javi," Arthur says, parting from Albert's side and touching Charles lightly on the shoulder.

He nods and grabs a quilt from the bed. 

"I'll make us some tea," Albert says and Arthur turns to smile at him while Charles nods with a polite, "thank you."

By the time the tea is poured, Arthur and Charles have goosebumps where they aren't pressed tightly together under the blanket. "Oolong?" Albert offers before joining them on the porch swing. 

"Thanks Al," Arthur says, and takes a sip from the steaming hot mug. The two men watch in amusement as he hisses and screws up his face in irritation. It's far too hot, but Arthur's not going to let that deter him. Charles and Albert simply watch the struggle of man against nature while they warm their hands on their mugs, snuggling contentedly closer.

"Arthur I'm going to take that from you if you don't stop."

"Bite me," he replies, and tries to take another sip. His effort is futile, and he inhales through his teeth again. Albert stifles a giggle. 

A few minutes pass and the cold air cools his drink enough to actually sip, and Arthur revels in the feeling of warmth, still shirtless but pressed against Charles' side and half covered by a blanket. The three of them sit like that in wait for Javier, just idly watching the trees sway in the wind and the birds flutter about in the underbrush, pecking away for the last of the season's seeds. A little more time passes like that, quietly between the three of them, and soon enough Javier is home, right on time.

He's driving a horse drawn wagon, one of the small ones with a comfortable seat, and in the back a big bundle is tied up nice and secure. Javier himself looks frozen to the reins, hat low over his ears and wrapped in a blanket that doesn't look like it's doing much against the cold. 

They rise and step off the porch to greet him, and Charles lets Arthur keep the blanket while they set down their mugs. 

"There he is!" Arthur exclaims, a grin on his face.

"H-howdy," Javier shivers.

Arthur offers a hand and Javier accepts it readily. "You look... Cold," he assesses bluntly. 

"No s-sh-shit." He hauls himself out of the driver's seat and steps stiffly into Arthur's arms. " _ Dios mio, _ please tell me it's warm inside." 

"Warm as hell. I just made cookies, an' everything's mostly set up for the day," Arthur says, a smile on his lips.

They move to head inside while Albert and Charles, the more dressed and less frozen of the four, thank Javier and begin unloading the wagon.

He sits the man right in front of the oven and puts a mug in his hands, the hot oolong tea making him feel like he might just melt there with his hands wrapped around the ceramic. "Thank you Arthur," he shivers, and Arthur joins him right there on the floor to wrap his quilt around his shoulders.

"Ain't nothin'," he says, and kisses him sweetly on the cheek. Somehow, that does more to warm him than the tea or the oven, so he smiles, wide and earnest. 

Albert and Charles haul in the wagon load easily enough-- it’s mostly food, but there are a couple handmade chairs and a trunk made of light wood and leather, embossed with flowery imagery and insects, with brass rivets holding the seams taut. It’s beautiful work, and Arthur says as much as they maneuver it to the foot of the bed like it’s always belonged there. 

“My my, we have  _ got  _ to take some pies over to those folks the next time we head to town,” Albert says, visibly delighted at the display of generosity. Their little cabin doesn’t have much in the way of proper furniture, just a big bed, a table, and a nightstand. None of the four have much woodworking experience between them, but they’d banded together over the summer after the crops had been sewn and made their porch swing out of a felled lodgepole pine, with the assistance of one of their neighbors with a lumber saw. It was far from perfect, but it was sturdy and big enough to seat the four of them on days when they hadn’t much to do. Either way, the chairs they’d been gifted were clearly made with more skill than the rest of their cabin, with embellished backs depicting swirling designs and wildflowers, and the seats were padded and upholstered with a dark red flowering pattern. They were gorgeous, if a little out of place.

“T’think they gave us all this just for scarin’ off some rustlers,” Arthur says with amusement, leaning into Javier.

“Those cattle are their livelihood. We spared them a harsh winter,” Charles says. “Still, this is awfully nice of them.”

“N-nevermind about that though, isn’t today the d-d-day?” Javier asks through chattering teeth.

“Yeah, but we ain’t gettn’ up to anything ‘till you’re defrosted,” Arthur muses.

“Oh come on,” Javier holds him a little closer. “You know a good fuck is the only way to melt my icy h-heart.”

The four laugh at that. “You know just the way to get a man’s blood pumpin’, Javier” Arthur laughs.

“Yeah, real subtle,” Charles adds.

“What? It’s not like any of us are any good at foreplay anyway,” Javier defends.

“Actually I was in a few  _ theater  _ productions during my course at St. John’s, I can--”

“Al, if you start doin’ Shakespere before sex I  _ will  _ walk outta here,” Arthur laughs.

Albert feigns hurt. “Oh! You  _ bite your thumb at me,  _ sir?!”

Charles laughs, sitting beside him with his full mug of tea. “He does bite his thumb, sir,” he nudges.

“Goddammit, don’t encourage him,” Arthur scolds Charles with a smile.

“Do you bite your thumb at  _ me _ , sir?!”

“Is the law on our side if we say “ay”?” Javier adds.

Albert stands, arm extended as if to brandish an imaginary weapon. “Do you quarrel, sir?!”

“Albert, shut the hell up,” Arthur says without any bite, standing. He grabs Albert by the wrist and places his other hand firmly on his shoulder. He can’t help the grin that slips onto his face, mirrored on the other’s features.

“Then draw, if you be men,” the photographer says, voice low and a wild gleam in his eye as he feels Arthur’s hand tightening on his wrist. He licks his lips. The hand on Albert’s shoulder slips to the crook of his neck to draw him close, and Arthur’s lips close in over his. It’s still just as sweet as every time they do this, warm and comfortable, and Albert leans into it with his whole body. Charles and Javier shoot each other an amused look.

Arthur slips his tongue into Al’s mouth, the wet slide of it against the other man’s enough to make him sigh through his nose, the familiar scrape of his teeth have him breathing in shakily. He pulls back, admiring the slightly dazed look that Albert gets after he’s kissed, slow and deep like this. The hand on his wrist leaves to slide down his sides, tuck itself into his trousers to caress his thigh. Albert moves his hand to grip the back of Arthur’s shirt.

“How many times did y’all have in mind for me?” Arthur asks in a low voice.

Albert looks visibly flustered. “Well, I-- we--”

“Didn’t discuss it exactly. What was our record before?” Javier pipes up. He looks to Charles.

“Four, I think. That was only one night,” he adds.

“Eight, then.”

“ _ Shit _ ,” Arthur whispers, lowers his head to Albert’s shoulder. The photographer presses his lips to Arthur’s hair.

“Would you like to move to the bed, darling?” he asks, ever the tender one. Arthur nods against his shoulder, and they part. Arthur looks over his shoulder at Javier, sipping his tea under the quilt and seated on the floor, watching them intently. He gestures for him to join them on the bed, and Javier nods once. 

“Where do you want us?” Charles asks, scooting to the edge of the bed to make room.

“Mmm. Anywhere,” Arthur answers vaguely. 

Javier scoffs. “Real helpful,  _ vaquero. _ ”

Arthur makes a noise of protest. “I’unno. Help me undress,” he says before his lips are captured in another kiss. Albert’s well-trimmed beard is soft against his lips, and he moves a hand up his jawline just to run his fingers through it. He hums into the kiss. Albert braces an arm over Arthur’s shoulder and deepens the kiss eagerly while Javier sets to work untying the laces on his soft moccasins, and Charles simply lifts away the waistband of his long johns to reveal his steadily hardening cock. Arthur lifts his hips to help Charles pull them down, and he and Javier make quick work of them. They work off the apron in much the same manner, untying it easily while Arthur and Albert part momentarily to remove the neckpiece.

Charles wastes no time in taking Arthur in hand after that, and he groans and arches into the touch, running his hand through the back of Albert’s hair and flicking his tongue along the back of his teeth. Albert pulls back slightly, panting against Arthur’s lips, and leans his weight on his left hand to work open his trousers with his right.

Arthur’s eyes flick hungrily to Albert’s cock as he works himself to hardness. The photographer dips low to kiss him again and he’s effectively distracted, until Charles grips him  _ hard  _ and he  _ whines _ . His other hand flies to Albert’s back, fingers bunching up the baby blue cloth of his shirt.

“What do you want, Arthur?” Charles asks, low and sultry. His strokes slow down and Arthur bucks his hips, trying to find that delicious friction.

“Nghh,” he says, and Albert parts from their kiss to look at him. “God,  _ anything _ . Any way you want, just--” he gasps at the sudden heat around his cock, and he looks down to see Charles’ gorgeous lips stretched into a perfect “o” around his length. He groans again as he works him with his tongue, flexing the insides of his hips, trying not to thrust into his throat. Albert’s stroking himself to the sight, and Javier is in the process of undressing at the foot of the bed, and he leans to the side table to grab one of the tins of vaseline and just the  _ thought  _ of what he’s going to do has Arthur flinging an arm over his eyes, unable to watch because he doesn’t want to come this early, doesn’t want them to know just how much it affects him when they do this, all together like they are. 

Or... Maybe he  _ does _ want them to know, but isn’t it always so much  _ better  _ when this is drawn out? That doesn’t really seem to be the plan for the other three though, and suddenly there’s a cold pressure at his entrance, and he jumps. “God _ dammit _ , your fingers ‘re fuckin’  _ freezing-- _ !” Arthur protests, and Charles snorts with amusement around his cock. Javier laughs apologetically.

“ _ Lo siento, mi amor _ .” 

That’s about as good a “sorry” as Arthur wants, and he shifts his hips to expose himself a little more. “Just warn a guy next time,  _ ah-- _ ” and he’s cut off again by Charles sucking  _ hard  _ on the upstroke, and his fist tightens against Albert’s shirt. “Al,” he says, panting.

“Mmm?”

“Touch me, please,” and Arthur grips his wrist where he’s still leaned over him. He shifts his weight onto his haunches and Arthur guides his hand to his pec. Albert squeezes so sweetly and rolls the flesh underneath his palm, feeling Arthur breathing heavy beneath him and simply admires the soft bulk of muscle and fat there, and after a long second he shifts to pinch a nipple between his thumb and forefinger before quickly leaning down to cover the taut flesh with his mouth. He’s still stroking himself, slowly, distractedly, and Arthur’s hand runs through his soft hair again before Javier is rubbing his slick fingers around his entrance, warmer this time, and he barely stifles a whine. “C’mon, Javi,” he breathes, hips stuttering against Charles’ mouth.

“No rush Arthur. We’re gonna take  _ gooood  _ care of you,” he says in that softened voice of his, and Arthur only whines in response when he feels the finger push inside. “Gonna make you come on my fingers, over and over,” he whispers. Arthur’s thighs flex around him, still holding back from thrusting too harshly into Charles’ throat, against his hot tongue that’s working its way back up to the glans, stroking wetly against his too-sensitive head. His fingers tighten in Albert’s hair as the man shifts to focus on his other nipple, still rolling the meat of his pec in his other hand. Arthur can only take it and try to hold off against the barrage of sensations, and  _ god,  _ how is it that they’ve  _ just  _ started?

Javier starts working him properly, adding another finger easily in the slick, wet heat, and he thrusts them at  _ just  _ the angle that Arthur likes, and Arthur’s  _ moaning,  _ seeing stars and  _ fucking hell  _ he is  _ not  _ going to last much longer. “Charles, Charles,” he begs, warns, and Charles pops off his cock and replaces the heat of his mouth with the rough, slick grip of his fist. The pressure is too much, and he feels everything vividly for a single second-- the intense, dull pressure of Javier’s fingers, three now, stretching and curling into him, the cooling spit against his nipple as he drags Albert up to kiss him urgently, the weight of Charles and Javier  _ watching them _ \-- and all of a sudden, the coil in his gut springs forth, pushes him  _ hard  _ off that cliff, gasping his orgasm while Albert licks into his mouth, and his abdomen convulses in waves while his come shoots in ropes against Charles’ fist, hot on his belly, and his eyes nearly roll back into his head.

He comes down quickly, realizes that his thighs are pressed tightly together, and makes an effort to spread them again. Albert is pressing gentle kisses into the corners of his open mouth, and Javier is still working his fingers inside, eking out the last of his orgasm almost to the point of oversensitivity, and he realizes slowly that Javier’s talking. 

“You’re so good for us, Arthur, so good.  _ Eres un bueno esposa _ , so good,” he’s whispering, and their eyes are still on him as he catches his breath.

“You good?” Charles asks. It takes Arthur a second to realize that the man’s still almost fully dressed. He furrows his brow.

“Why you got so many damn clothes on?” 

Charles chuckles. “Dunno. Should I take them off?”

“Please,” Arthur whines. His hips jerk as Javier’s fingers stroke against his prostate again, and he lets out a short breath. “ _ Shit, _ Javi, keep-- keep talkin’.”

“What do you want me to say, love? How perfect you are for us?” Arthur responds with another whine, and Albert smiles. 

“You want me to tell you how  _ good  _ you feel, all tight and wet around my fingers? How I’m gonna make you come like this,  _ again  _ and  _ again  _ and  _ again _ ?” He thrusts his fingers harder, and Arthur’s flaccid cock stirs. 

“Shit--”

“Want me to say how fucking gorgeous you’ll look by the time we’re done, all fucked out of your mind and gaping for us?”

“ _ Javier-- _ ”

“Shh, love. We’re going to fuck you so nice, Arthur.  _ Te sentirás como el cielo, mi corazon.  _ So good, my love,” he whispers before removing his fingers. Arthur almost growls at the sudden loss of friction, riding on that high and so abruptly brought down.

“Shh. ‘M just getting more slick for you,” Javier reassures. He brings his hand back to Arthur’s entrance and eases four fingers in, and it has Arthur arching off the mattress, mouth open wide and breath hitching in his chest. “ _ Relax _ , relax, Arthur,” Javier whispers at the tight clench around his fingers. The man begins breathing again, and Albert smooths his thumb along his sweat-damp forehead, moving the hair out of his eyes.

Charles is watching intently, relaxed at his side and finally bared for Arthur to see. He’s stroking himself slowly, just enjoying the show while Arthur comes undone around Javier’s skilled fingers. The sight of Charles has Arthur’s cock aching, and he’s getting close to completion already.

“Javier, please,” he begs, hoarse, though he isn’t sure what he’s begging for. He glances down to see Javier’s cock, framed in dark hair and erect, neglected in favor of pursuing Arthur’s own pleasure. He doesn’t quite have the wherewithal to voice his objections to this, because it can’t be  _ fair  _ that he’s rapidly reaching his second climax of the hour while his lovers haven’t had their own release even  _ once.  _ But the way Javier’s fingers splay inside of him, thrusting and curling so  _ precisely  _ against his prostate leaves him a gasping, panting, sweaty mess. His hands are gripped in the sheets and he’s thrusting into the open air with abandon, Javier’s ministrations punching out little “ _ ah, ah, ah-- _ ”s, eyes squeezing shut and teeth bared.  _ Fuck,  _ the force of it just overwhelms him suddenly, and his second orgasm is forced out of him seemingly out of nowhere. He’s clenching wetly against Javier’s fingers while the man’s thumb strokes the vaseline slicked skin behind his balls, and he shoots hot semen all over his own stomach, adding to the already considerable mess there. A leg raises of its own accord as he rides out the last waves of his orgasm, and Javier is whispering him through it, stroking inside of him too goddamn  _ well _ . He’s pretty sure he shouted at some point, but he doesn’t remember past the slight scratch in his throat.

He’s allowed a respite when Javier slides his fingers out of him with a wet noise, and Arthur collapses fully onto the bed, boneless. 

The room is quiet for a moment while Javier wipes his hand on a rag and watches Albert unbutton his vest. “‘Bout time,” he grins.

Albert glances up, noticing the eyes on him. “Oh, hah. Yes, I think it’s erm... Poor decorum to be the only clothed party in a room full of nude men.” 

Arthur snorts a laugh. “G’ddammit, Al.” His voice is gravelly and slightly slurred, and though it hasn’t shown yet, the three know that his drawl is endearingly thickened, just like every time they do this. 

“You alright to keep going?” Javier asks. Arthur nods his confirmation, moving his arms up to pillow underneath his head. He breathes in deep and flexes his legs. “D’you want me to fuck you?” Javier asks, reaching again for the tin of vaseline.

“Hell yeah,” he says, and Javier smiles. 

“Good.” He gathers up a moderate amount and works it over his hard length, tugging back the foreskin and thumbing the head just to give Arthur a show. “You look so gorgeous like this, Arthur.  _ Eres hermoso, mi bella esposa. _ ” 

“G’ddammit, ‘re you jus’ gonna keep callin’ me your wife, ‘r you gonna fuck me?” He demands, hoarse and breathless.

“You like it,” Javier teases.

“Like hell I d-- _ ohh, _ ” Arthur moans as Javier guides himself into his oversensitive entrance, sliding easily past the ring of muscle and pausing halfway sheathed inside, gripping his hips and trying to compose himself. “ _ Nngh, _ ” Arthur grits out, and to his right he can feel Charles reclining on his elbow to watch, mirroring Albert on his left. 

Javier breathes through his teeth because god _ damn  _ does Arthur feel good, clenching and unclenching around him, and he pulls out a little to thrust shallowly into that slick heat, just working up a bit of tolerance, more for his own sake than Arthur’s. 

“C’mon darlin’,” Arthur drawls, panting, “harder, h-- _ harder _ \--” and Javier complies with a huff, adjusting his grip on his thighs, lifting a knee over his shoulder, savoring the quickening slap of his own skin against Arthur’s.

Every thrust starts almost to border on painful for Arthur, but  _ god  _ does it feel _ so fucking good _ . He wants him to go harder, make it  _ really hurt,  _ make sure he can barely walk in the morning. Javier shifts and picks up the pace a little, and it’s got Arthur’s vision going white in the periphery, twisting the fabric of the pillow behind his head. With each successive thrust he can feel Javier’s cock pounding against his prostate, edging him closer, winding his muscles tighter where they were boneless just a few minutes ago. He throws his head back, pressing hard into the pillow, and raises the small of his back from the sweaty sheets, lifts his hips for a better angle. His mouth is wide open and he’s breathing hard,  _ so goddamn close _ , he barely even notices when Charles tilts the angle of his head to catch his open mouth in a filthy kiss, spit slicked and uncoordinated, and Charles seeming just as desperate for a taste of him as Arthur is for any sensation that will bring him release. He’s moaning like a two dollar whore against Charles’ lips, the younger man swallowing every noise with an eagerness that  _ somehow, impossibly,  _ makes his cock throb and heightens the fucking  _ high  _ he’s getting with Javier just melting his insides. He feels his third orgasm of the night approaching, just out of reach, and he jerks his hips up to chase it, using the leg on the bed as leverage. “ _ Fuck, fuck, fuck _ ,” he whines, and Javier adjusts himself one more time against him and that’s all Arthur needs before his vision goes white, the blood rushes to his ears, and he spurts weakly onto the side of his belly, on the sheet underneath him. 

Javier milks him through it, concentrating too hard to speak this time, and the rhythmic clench of his orgasm against Javier’s cock pushes him all the closer to his own release. He keeps thrusting-- only a little slower now than before-- chasing his own high in the tight slick  _ heat  _ that is his--  _ their _ \-- Arthur. 

Arthur blinks himself back to earth for only a moment before the intensity of the rhythm Javier’s set blindsides him-- his breath shudders and he arches off the mattress, coming again after only a matter of  _ seconds _ , and the other two men watch with heated gazes as Arthur’s muscles flex and gleam sweat in his own sort of unconscious beauty. 

The sight of Arthur writhing beneath him, coming that second time-- holy fuck _, he_ did that to him?-- has Javier finishing inside Arthur’s abused hole with a groan from between his teeth, hissing out a breath and thrusting shallowly just a few more times before he stills, panting, _sweating_.

“Ffffuuuck. Arthur?” Javier asks slowly, releasing the leg from behind his shoulder. Arthur flops back onto the mattress, an arm thrown over his eyes and the other limply holding onto Charles’ hand. He responds with a sort of growly noise.

“You alright?”

Arthur breathes for a few moments. “Wou-- would’ja hand me a glass a’ water?” he croaks out, unmoving. Javier sighs in relief.

“Sure.” and he pulls out of Arthur with a wet sound that sends a shiver of satisfaction down his spine, and he shuffles over to the water pail, noting the few glasses stacked next to it. “You guys really did think of everything, huh?” he muses as he dips a glass in and lets it drip its excess back into the bucket. Charles smiles. 

“Tried to,” and he takes the offered glass from Javier and places it into Arthur’s palm.

“Thank you,” he says flatly, before attempting to sit up without moving. He succeeds in getting...  _ Some  _ of the water into his mouth at least, while the rest of his mouthful runs quickly along the hot skin of his jawline, his neck, and absorbs into his mussed hair and the pillow below. His second drink is a little more successful, and he hands the glass back to Charles before wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. The man smiles at him fondly.

“Do you need to take a break?” he asks.

“‘F I do, I’ll prob’ly end up sleepin’. Hand me a cookie?”

Charles smiles fondly. “Of course.” He looks up between the other two. “Al? Javi? You want anything?”

Albert declines. 

“Gimme one of those gooey ones,” Javier says, motioning to the cookies. Arthur smiles, a little dopey. 

“Made those’ns for you,” he says to Javier.

“You’re too good for me, Arthur. Our  _ bella esposa _ ,” he grins. 

Charles chuckles as he reaches for the cookies. They’re not warm anymore, but he hardly expected them to be. It’s past noon now, and it’s high time for lunch. He figures he should probably feed Arthur something besides sweets. He grabs a bunch of grapes and one of the lumps of brie cheese on a platter. 

He hands Javier his cookie, which he eagerly munches on, and then gives Arthur a look. “You might want to sit up a little.”

“Uughhhh,” he groans. He drags himself up to rest on the headboard, and Albert leans against his left shoulder fondly. He takes a big bite of the cookie and chews it tiredly. Swallows, and finishes the rest of the cookie in two bites. 

“Cheese or grapes?” Charles asks.

“Mmm, both?” 

“Alright,” and Charles picks up the brie between two fingers. “Open wide.”

Arthur obeys. The cheese is soft and mild against his tongue, and he closes his lips around Charles’ fingers, scraping his teeth dull against the skin. His eyes flutter closed as he works the cheese around with his tongue, savoring the buttery, earthy flavor. He swallows and sucks the hunter’s fingers clean, hums, low and sultry.

Charles’ tongue darts out to wet his lips. He breaks his steady eye contact with Arthur and brings a grape to his lips.

“Open,” he says, quieter this time.

Arthur obeys.

The grape is white, large and sweet as it bursts between his teeth, and he licks the juice clean off of Charles’ fingers too. They don’t break eye contact as he brings another to Arthur’s lips, repeating the process, Arthur watching Charles’ eyes darken. 

A dozen more grapes, enough to give Arthur a little energy at least, and Charles leaves them aside to kiss the sweet juice from his lips, to lick the flavor of himself into Arthur’s mouth. His arms wrap around Arthur’s shoulders and they deepen the kiss, Arthur groaning low in his throat. 

Arthur runs his hand up the line of Charles’ spine, over his broad shoulders, and through his hair, soft and dark and a little tangled in the back. His breath hitches at the hand trailing lightly down his stomach, threading through the hair at the base of his cock. 

“Charles, please.”

He man hums in response.

“Fuck-- please fuck me?”

And Charles breathes in deep, steadying himself. After a moment; “Sure.” Arthur smiles through the lingering fog in his head, and he pulls Charles back down into a kiss, hand moving to his cock, still hard and mostly untouched since they started. He gives it a few tugs, and Charles stiffens his spine.

Arthur gathers up a little strength and sits up properly. “How d’you want me?”

“On my lap,” he says without hesitation. His gaze meets Albert’s. “I want Albert to suck you off while I take you from behind.” and if Albert hadn’t been blushing before, he’s gone beet red at that. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but decides against it and simply shuffles eagerly across the bed to the other side. 

Arthur watches him. “Not sure how quick I c’n get it up at this point, Al.”

“All the more evidence that we’re doing this right,” Albert responds cheekily.

Charles smiles. “C’mere,” and draws Arthur into his arms. 

Albert maneuvers a pillow onto the floor and drops to his knees between Charles and Arthur’s legs. Arthus swings a leg over Charles’ thigh, careful not to kick Albert, watching them with anticipation. The sight of the man below them, so eager with his tongue wetting the pink of his lips, it makes Arthur bite his bottom lip and smile. Albert returns the grin, running his hand along his thigh, the soft hairs on his skin. He doesn’t say anything, knows he doesn’t need to. They share a moment while Charles is leaning back to gather some slick on his hand.

Arthur savors the feeling of being spread open and on display for Albert like this, anticipating that soft mouth, that soft beard around his cock. Arthur shifts, feels some of Javier’s jism leaking, hot and wet, slowly out of him, and the feeling sends a giddy rush up his spine. 

Charles returns to them with warmed vaseline on his fingers, and he shifts enough to reach between them and slick his hard cock with just a few pumps. 

It may be entirely unnecessary, considering what vaseline still lingers after Javier’s spunk adding to his loose, slick handiwork, but Charles doesn’t want to hurt him. Not  _ too  _ badly. He just wants to wring as much pleasure into Arthur as he can, and he knows the man’s never been one to bottom with just spit and determination, so at least he knows Arthur’ll appreciate the extra. He presses a kiss into the nape of his neck.

“You good?”

Arthur breathes out a “ _ yeah, _ ” and Charles gives his bicep a squeeze. Arthur shifts his hips against Charles, and the man takes his cock in hand once more to guide the length inside.

“Fuck,” he groans at the hot slide of it, the wet fucking  _ heat _ . It’s erotic how loose Arthur is around him, and he wonders how much of it is Javier’s. “Mnn,” he groans again.

Albert below them simply props his head on his arm, watching with lidded eyes and heat rushing to his face the utterly perfect display his lovers give him. He catches his bottom lip against his teeth and palms himself a little more, not exactly stroking, just seeking something to do with his hands without really considering his own release yet. He hears the wet  _ shlick  _ of Charles’ cock moving inside of their Arthur, sees the man’s fingers tighten into the meat of his own thigh. Can practically feel the stuttered breaths Arthur releases in time to Charles’ movements. His cock is stirring valiantly back to life, and Albert eyes it hungrily.

Arthur makes brief eye contact with Albert, his jaw hanging open as Charles punches out little grunts from him on every thrust. Arthur seems to take his transfixed staring as hesitation, because he reaches down to run a shaky thumb along the curve of his cheekbone, feeling the soft warmth there. “You don’t h--  _ ah-- _ ” his breath hitches on one thrust, _ “--Don’t have to _ ,” he breathes quickly.

Albert’s face somehow gets even more flush, and he hurries to reassure him. “No no, I want to! I just like to watch you sometimes... Like this. You’re both gorgeous.”

Arthur’s hips jerk against Charles’ steady rhythm, and he whines. “ _ God _ .” The shaky thumb at his cheek winds its way through Albert’s untidy hair, trailing to the back of his skull. Not pushing, just resting there. Albert knows his cue.

He practically jumps to lap at Arthur’s half-hard cock, the man above giving a hoarse shout at the contact, familiar and expected but  _ still so goddamn good _ , and Charles presses himself closer against Arthur’s back to watch from behind his shoulder. His hand winds its way to Arthur’s nipple, and Arthur moans, jerks his hips into Albert’s mouth, rolls them back against Charles’ thick cock. 

Albert has to suppress a smile around Arthur’s length as the man rolls his hips between the two of them; if he’s being honest, he  _ likes it _ when Arthur thrusts into his mouth like this-- his gag reflex has long since been trained back since living with these three, so it’s not as if he hasn’t much practice. No, he  _ loves it  _ when he can make Arthur come undone above him, his thighs wrapped around his ears and hand gripped tightly in his hair. He really,  _ really fucking loves it.  _ Prides himself in knowing that he can work Arthur back to hardness, even after so many rounds-- with his tongue, the clench of his throat as he swallows-- a graze of teeth  _ just  _ under the head that has Arthur shouting again, gripping his hair harder, stuttering his hips. He tosses Charles a knowing glance that’s returned with heat mirrored in his dark eyes, working into Arthur harder,  _ faster _ , making him utter curses and praises and their names, heavy on his tongue as Arthur comes dry, just the salt of his sweat and the heady smell of his musk. Albert’s nose is pressed into the curls at the base of Arthur’s cock as he convulses, eyes tightly shut, leaking only a few drops of clear jism that are taken eagerly down Albert’s throat. Albert pulls off with a  _ pop _ and admires the show.

Charles massages the meat of his shoulder through Arthur’s orgasm and slows the pace he’s set, just a little, while Arthur comes down to earth again. His toes are curled tightly behind Charles’ calves as he shakes back to reality, and there’s a tremble in his muscles that he can’t tell has happened during sex before. The thought of asking for a break flits across his mind for just a second, before Charles works into him again  _ just right _ , and he’s gripping his thigh and leaving crescent-moon marks in his skin. He chokes down a moan that turns to a growl in his throat. Charles bites his shoulder,  _ hard. _

It’s enough to tip him off the precipice that’s been building so quickly-- every nerve in his body feels goddamn  _ electric  _ for just a few seconds; a few seconds of tensed muscles, gasping, blinding white, and  _ frustratingly short _ . The slick slide of Charles’ cock against his abused hole borders on just the right amount of painful, and Arthur bounces limply in his lap, drugged with post-orgasmic haze, clinging to the arm that works his nipple as he leans against Charles and just takes his cock as deep as he can get it. The sounds of their breathing and the wet slap of skin against skin fill the room, rushing back to his ears as he slowly regains some of his faculties. Arthur’s eyes lazily drag to Javier with Albert pressed to his side, slowly jerking him off, both pairs of eyes hungrily watching Arthur and Charles. He's already breathing hard, and the sight makes his breath hitch in his lungs. 

He can feel himself already getting hard again, especially when Charles flips them over to pound into him with his face pressed to the blankets, the fabric swallowing up every little, “ _ ah, ah, ah-- fuck, Charles--, _ ” and his drawl is slurred all too noticably. “ _ Harder, harder _ ,” he repeats like a mantra, and he chases his pleasure against him with every thrust.

Javier doesn’t hold out much longer when Arthur starts talking like that, noisy and sloppy and  _ hot as hell.  _ Javier comes to the sight of Charles’ broad back hunched over, muscles glinting with sweat and his hips pistoning against their Arthur’s pelvis--  _ god  _ what he wouldn’t give to be on the receiving end of  _ that  _ right now-- and Albert’s wrist twists on the upstroke, hand slicked with vaseline and gripping  _ hard _ . He comes with a groan and Albert shoots him a lazy grin. The photographer had already pursued his release, quickly and unceremoniously in his own fist, and Javier had licked his fingers clean. Arthur hadn’t seen, but maybe he’d tell him later. Later, later. 

The curve of his cock fills him at a new angle like this, and whatever meagre control he’s managed to cling to vanishes as Arthur comes again, gasping for breath, orgasm hitting him in wave after trembling  _ wave _ . He feels like he’s shaking apart, tension and sweet fucking  _ release  _ hitting him like a surge in a storm. He’s pretty sure he’d been holding his breath, or he might’ve been shouting all the air in his lungs into the blankets, he isn’t really sure. He’s still clenched hard around Charles, and the man’s pumping his hips faster,  _ faster,  _ he groans, and  _ god _ , just the sound of Charles’ pleasure, so low and deep in his throat, have Arthur rolling his hips to chase the slick friction while Charles finally,  _ finally  _ empties himself inside of him. He takes it, takes every drop of him, with a curse and Charle’s name on his tongue. Charles thrusts only once more as he holds Arthur’s hips in a vice grip. Arthur whines, needy and high. " _ Charles _ ," he moans again, and Charles runs his hand down the line of his back.

"Fuck," he says softly. "You... You good?"

Arthur nods against the blankets. "I think I'm-- think'm gonna take a break now," he pants.

"Of course," Charles replies, and pulls out his softening cock. A dribble of come leaks out of Arthur and the man groans, shifts on his knees. Charles licks his lips and helps him into a sitting position. "'M really proud of you, Arthur."

Arthur blinks heavily, too tired to be embarrassed at the praise. "Thanks Charles," he drawls. He leans limp against the headboard. 

"You want some more water?" Javier offers. Arthur nods, letting his eyes fall closed. A cup taps against his hand, and he startles from his short doze. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles, sitting up. He gulps down a few mouthfuls of water before taking a few breaths, then swallows the rest of the cup’s contents. He pants, and a trail of water rolls slowly down the corner of his mouth.

Javier reclines on his side, head resting in Albert’s lap. “I love you all,” he says through a yawn.

Three variations of “I love you too” are returned, in various states of lethargy. Javier smiles, and Arthur meets his eyes. 

“Mmm. C’mere,” Arthur says, weakly gesturing for Javier to lay beside him. “You too, Al. Charles.” He looks to the other two men, and Charles scoots himself closer, draping an arm around Arthur’s shoulders. Albert climbs up from the foot of the bed and snuggles in between the two. They breathe, and there is silence.

For a few moments, at least. “You smell like sweat,” Javier says. His head is nuzzled into the crook of Arthur’s arm, and the man only scoffs. 

“You try gettn’ fucked six ways fr’m sunday, see how good you smell.” Albert and Charles chuckle at that, and Javier simply nuzzles closer. 

“Didn’t say I didn’t like it,” he says.

“Shut up,” he says softly, closing his eyes again.

They fall asleep with relative ease.

Waking, however, is a goddamn ordeal. Arthur comes to, feeling like his eyes have been glued shut, and noticing a line of drool has dried a trail down his chin. He moves to wipe it away, but his right arm is asleep and trapped underneath Javier. His other, he realizes slowly, is wrapped around Albert’s shoulder; the man is sleeping on his back, snoring loudly. Charles is turned away, half under the topmost quilt and hair a tangled black mess. 

Arthur removes his arm from around Albert’s shoulders; he doesn’t worry about waking him, the man sleeps like a rock-- and wipes away the sleep from his eyes and the drool from his lips. His skin is sweaty where it was pressed against Albert and Javier. 

He weighs the merits of waking Javier just to get the pins-and-needles feeling out of his arm versus just going back to sleep and letting the soreness in his muscles win over, when he suddenly gets a strong whiff of pot roast that smells suspiciously  _ strong _ . He sits bolt upright. “Shit!” 

His pot roast is probably overcooking in the oven and  _ jesus christ,  _ how long have they been sleeping?! Javier and Charles, ever the light sleepers, awake with a start. "Wha-- wha?" Javi says, sitting up quickly.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Arthur curses again, wobbling to stand on his knees and trying to get over Javier to reach the kitchen. 

"Arthur, what's--?"

"Forgot to check on the  _ goddamn _ pot roast," Arthur growls out, and catches his leg in the blanket before falling on top of Javier with an " _ oof _ ." Javier only laughs.

“ _ Mierda, _ you almost gave me a heart attack. Here--” he helps Arthur up by his bicep, only to push him back down to the pillows. “ _ Lie down. _ I’ll--”

“I’ve got it, don’t worry,” Charles interrupts, his voice gravelly with sleep.

“Thanks Charles,” Arthur drawls. Javier pulls the quilt up to cover their bare skin-- even with the fire going and the bed occupied by four people, the cabin is still cold.

Charles disentangles himself from the blanket, careful not to move the still-sleeping Albert, and shuffles over to the wood stove. He opens the hatch with a thick cloth and peeks in. A puff of steam escapes and releases the heavenly smell of Arthur’s delicious slow-cooked venison; it’s not quite done though. “Mmm, could use a couple more hours I think. I’ll add more wood.” Arthur grunts his affirmative, finally relaxing into Javier’s embrace.

“You wanna keep going?” Javier stifles a yawn, tracing a finger idly along Arthur’s torso under the blanket.

“Think we should wait for Al?”

“I think I’ve got a good way to wake him,” Charles says, kneeling back on the bed. He stretches his back and shoulders with a grunt. Arthur raises an eyebrow. Charles says nothing in response but to lift the blanket around Albert’s hips, where he’s sporting an impressive erection. Javier whistles low. Albert, somehow still sleeping through their racket, shifts slightly, seeking the warmth. His snore hitches, then resumes again as if nothing had changed.

Charles moves between his knees, kisses the insides of Albert’s thighs, and Arthur is  _ definitely  _ waking up now. Javier shifts to watch from behind, his hand splayed on Arthur’s chest.

He bunches his black hair, still unfortunately a tangled mess, into one hand and ties it in a loose knot behind his back. He bends forward, presses another kiss to the inside of Albert’s thigh, and opens his lips to swallow him up. He works over him gradually, first just the head, then halfway down the shaft, licking and sucking as he goes, and his nose is soon pressed into the short hair at the base, and Albert shifts his hips and whimpers in his sleep. He sneaks a heated glance toward Arthur and Javier, both watching in rapt attention, and works Albert even faster, all tongue and spit and drool, and Albert, thrusting unconscious into his mouth and  _ whining. _

Albert snorts awake right before he comes, and he blinks down to see Charles lapping at his cock like the cat that got the cream, and he grips the sheets beneath him and  _ keens,  _ coming hard down Charles’ throat. He bites his bottom lip and rides out his orgasm in the wet heat of his lover’s mouth, thanking whatever it is that watches over them in moments like these for his unimaginably good luck ending up in this scenario, waking barely coherent enough to think, to his dick being sucked  _ just for the hell of it _ . Granted, they usually start their mornings with something like this, but it’s somehow so much better when Charles gets started midway through a dream. It blurs reality a little around them. 

He comes down from the high after a few frantic seconds of thrusting through it, and Charles pops off of him and wipes the spit and semen on the back of his hand. He swallows one last time and shoots Albert a lazy grin. 

“Evening, sleeping beauty.”

“ _ Christ _ ,” Albert answers, and flops his head back onto the pillows. He blinks and glances over to his right. “Did I--” he clears his throat, “did I miss anything important?”

Javier is occupied with Arthur’s neck between his teeth, the man below him breathing heavily while his cock is squeezed into Javier’s fist. “Not really,” Arthur grunts out before gasping again, Javier sucking  _ hard  _ against his neck. He licks the red spot with no small amount of pride before sitting up and meeting Albert’s eyes.

“You’re cute when you sleep,” he says, and pumps Arthur’s cock once, twice, and the man lets out a sharp groan. Javier doesn’t break eye contact. Albert gulps.

“Javi?” Arthur interrupts.

“Hmm?”

“I really gotta take a piss.”

“Ah shit.” He leans back on his lower belly. “You good to walk?”

“Prob’ly not. Help me there?”

Javier chuckles. “‘Course, cowboy.” He rolls off the edge of the bed, taking half the blanket with him, and stands, naked in the cold air. He extends a hand. “Hurry up before my balls get too cold to fuck you again properly.”

Arthur growls at that. He stands, and uses the momentum to kiss the corner of his mouth before his knees give out from beneath him. “Mister Escuela, you’re just terrible.” He presses another kiss to his lips.

“Mnnh, come on,” Javier says, slinging Arthur’s arm around his shoulder and grabbing him by the waist. They pad slowly around the bed and Charles watches as Javier helps Arthur into his moccasins before donning his own. They forgo a blanket or a robe, considering the short distance, but they’re probably going to be cold by the time they get back. Charles smirks. Stubborn bastards, the both of them.

He scoots closer to Albert on the bed, snuggling a little deeper into the blanket. He offers an arm to the photographer, and he gladly falls into his embrace. He makes himself comfortable for a moment, and Charles sighs at the soft comforting weight of Albert against his chest. The man’s skin is sticky with dried sweat but he’s not really one to complain, he can’t be much better. He leans his face against Albert’s hair.

“You alright?” he asks.

Albert nods against his chest. “Absolutely. It... Today is going so much better than I anticipated. Just seeing Arthur like that...” he yawns. Can’t help but press a smile into the soft hair on Charles’ chest. “Forgive me if I’m out of line in saying that I’m... Proud of us. And him.”

Charles hums. “I know what you mean.” He runs his hand down Albert’s side affectionately. “Not every day we get to spend the entire day in bed, just...” 

“Ravishing him?”

He chuckles. “Yes.”

“What do you think we should do next?”

“Mm. I have a couple ideas.”

“Oh? Do tell,” Albert curls up a little to press his legs closer to Charles’ warmth.

Charles takes a moment to find the words. “Well...”

Albert prods him in the side. “Come on, spill.”

“I wasn’t sure if he’d like it, but... You... You know how he’s got..?” Albert gives him a moment, then makes a questioning sound.

Charles sighs, leans his head against the headboard. “I really  _ really  _ want to watch one of you fuck his tits. Like a twenty dollar whore.”

Albert grins against his chest. “ _ Goodness me _ , mister Smith. That sounds absolutely  _ filthy _ .” He gives Charles’ ribs a squeeze, right below his pec. “I fucking  _ love it. _ ”

Charles’ embarrassed smile is hidden in Albert’s hair. “D’you think he’d..?”

“Only one way to find out,” Albert replies.

_ Speak of the devil _ , the back door slams against the cold and Arthur and Javier come hopping inside, still naked as the day they were born, and hobble hurriedly towards the bed. Snowflakes melt against their shoulders and hair, and as they climb hastily under the covers, their skin is clammy and they’re shivering.

They fall into the hug that Charles and Albert offer easily.

“Christ, we gotta move the outhouse closer to the damn cabin,” Arthur says through clenched teeth.

“Hope that didn’t kill the mood too much?” Charles asks. He rubs some warmth back into Arthur’s arm.

“F-fuck, it kinda did. I think my dick fell off,” Javier says, half serious.

“You all want me to brew some more tea?” Albert offers.

He receives a chorus of “yes’s” from the other three, and carefully maneuvers himself out of the quilt and into a fur-lined robe hanging from the wall. 

He sets the kettle filled with tea leaves onto the stove. “So, Arthur.”

“Yeah?”

“I think Charles had a proposal for you earlier.” He casts a sly wink to the other man. Charles returns it with a look of annoyance.

Arthur turns to look at him. “Really now?”

He sighs. “Yeah, uhm... I don’t know if it’s... Okay, or anything, but. Uhm.” He would do anything to worm his way out of this conversation.  _ God,  _ why was he always so awkward with this? “Just wanted to see... Iffff... You’d like Javi or Al to fuck your tits and come on your face while I watch.” That last sentence comes out in a single breath, and Arthur blinks.

“You-- you really had to  _ ask _ ?” Arthur says, a disbelieving smile spreading across his face.

Charles looks bewildered. “Well, yes? I mean-- I mean I didn’t want to offend you and make today...  _ Weird. _ ” 

“Charles,” he scoffs. “I ain’t too shy ’bout the fact I’ve gained weight. I know you like it.”

Charles feels his face grow warm. “...Not one for subtlety, am I?”

Arthur laughs, and Javier joins him. “None of us are, darlin’.”

Albert simply watches the goings on from the warmth of the stove. The kettle is nearing boiling, and he pours the tea into the four mugs. Places them on a tray, and walks over to the bed. “Careful, they’re hot,” he warns.

“Thanks Al,” Charles says. 

“Thanks,” the other two say in unison. They sip their tea in relative silence, leaned together and simply enjoying each other’s warmth. Arthur leans across Javier to grab some salted venison, chewing it while he waits for his tea to cool a little more. His stomach rumbles as he chews, and Javier looks over. 

“Y’all wanna just take a lunch before we get back to it?”

Arthur shrugs. “Sure,” he says through a mouthful of meat. Albert nods, and Charles grunts his agreement. They take a moment to untangle and grab what blankets are on the bed to wrap themselves in, and they gather around the coffee table to partake in the little feast Charles prepared for them. Arthur nudges aside a tin of vaseline and they begin to eat as soon as the first grape is popped into his mouth. It’s a satisfying lunch, all in all-- enough to tide them over until the pot roast is ready, and they’re all running on the half-assumption that the day’s...  _ Festivities  _ will be finished by then. Arthur shifts uncomfortably as he sits, still slick between his cheeks and sore as hell. Charles shoots him a concerned glance more than once through a mouthful of peanut butter and rosemary bread. Arthur reassures him wordlessly each time, and they finish their lunch when the last of the cheese and bread and butter is gone. Javier playfully brushes the crumbs from Albert’s beard, and Arthur sprawls back on the bed with a contented sigh. 

“Y’think we got time to make mash potatoes when we’re done?” he asks to the open air. 

“Arthur, by the time we’re done you probably won’t be able to stand,  _ vaquero _ .” Javier replies, lying down beside him. Arthur snickers.

“Ahh, I’m pretty sure y’all already got that covered. My ass feels like I sat on a damn saguaro.”

Javier laughs at that, his grin wide and earnest. “Might need someone to massage that out for you.” He looks across the table at Albert. “What do you think?”

“Oh that sounds  _ delightful _ ,” he says easily. 

Arthur covers his eyes with the back of his hand. “ _ God _ you fellas are assholes. Now get over here ‘n fuck me again, will ya?” and he spreads his knees to give the photographer a good view of him. He’s not embarrassed by saying things like this anymore, not embarrassed by showing himself like this to lovers, not after so long, but his own words and the cold air that rushes between his legs sends a burn to his cheeks as if it were the first time all over again. The look Albert gives him is intense, and were it not for the glassware on the table it looks like he would’ve scrambled over the thing on his hands and knees-- as it were, he simply stands and makes his way quickly to the bed and leans over Arthur, still half wrapped in a blanket, and presses his lips eagerly to Arthur’s. 

He grunts, moves his hand from his eyes to card through Albert’s hair, and opens his mouth to invite Albert’s tongue in. They kiss for only a second more, a rushed, familiar thing, before Albert’s trailing lower, running his hands down the hair on his chest, squeezing the tendon on the inside of his thigh, and dropping to his knees. He noses the underside of his cock and uses his thumbs to spread Arthur open to tongue eagerly at the ring of muscle. Arthur responds with a gasp, arching off the bed at the teasing flick of tongue and the warm pressure at his entrance.

Arthur smells and tastes of sweat and slick and the salty spunk of Charles and Javier’s combined spend, leaked out of Arthur and dried sticky on his skin. Albert laps all of it up and plunges his tongue into Arthur’s hole, presses his nose to his taint and licks  _ deeper _ , the rough of his taste buds making Arthur tense and breathe a whine above him. “ _ Al, _ ” he whimpers, and his hands grip harder into his hair.

Albert simply hums and works deeper,  _ faster  _ with his tongue, slips a thumb fully inside to spread him open just that little bit more, just enough to make Arthur see  _ stars,  _ just the way Charles taught him all that time ago. He licks into him again and again, and Arthur, with his legs tensed around Albert’s shoulders, can only lie there and roll his hips into the feeling, watching through bleary eyes as Charles and Javier above him trade soft kisses from the warmth of their shared blanket. He can’t see underneath the fabric but he knows their hands are wrapped around each other’s cocks, stroking slowly, unhurried, waiting for Arthur. “ _ Fuck, fuck _ ,” is all Arthur can wheeze through the pleasure, and he tugs Albert’s hair to let him know he’s close, let him know he can use his fingers, for the love of god  _ please use his fingers.  _

Albert gets the message. Gives his tongue a welcome respite as he uses his own spit to slide three fingers easily into him, adding a fourth after a few thrusts, then works them  _ up,  _ curling them  _ just so _ , and the pressure against Arthur’s abused prostate is enough to have him jerking his torso, breath hitching, and he’s arching off the mattress with a gasp and his eyes squeezed shut. 

His come is almost clear when he spills, and it catches hot and runny on Albert’s wrist as he thrusts his fingers into Arthur’s hole. Albert’s grin is smug when he slows his hand, and Arthur blinks back to reality after a few moments. 

“How many has this been?” the photographer asks. 

“S-- seven, I think,” Arthur tries to catch his breath. “Christ  _ alive _ .”

Albert smooths his hands along his thighs. “You alright darling?” after a moment.

He relaxes into the touch, slows his heavy breathing. “Mmmh, think so. Hey-- Javi?” he cranes his neck to look at him.

“Yeah?”

“You still up f’r givin’ Charles a show?”

“‘Course.” Javier pecks Charles on the cheek. “Keep the blanket.” and with that, he stands on his knees and shuffles over to where Arthur’s still lying with his legs dangling half off the bed, Albert wiping his mouth between his knees. Javier fixes the man with a look. “You fuck him good for us, alright?  _ Ha sido un bueno esposa para nosotros. _ ”

Albert only understands half of what’s said, but he gets the gist well enough. Arthur brings a hand to his reddened face. “D’ya have t’ keep  _ callin’  _ me that?” he asks, flustered.

“But you  _ have _ been,” Javier leans down, his cock hard and bobbing between his legs. “You’re our good little wife, Arthur. You’re so good for us.” He presses a kiss to his cheek.

Arthur laughs. “Whatever you say.” 

“Stop me if you’re uncomfortable?” Javier says quietly, pretense dropped for a moment, less a question and more of a reassurance. Arthur nods. 

“‘Course.”

And Javier presses a kiss to his lips, soft and comfortable. He swings a leg over Arthur's broad chest, thighs spread wide to straddle his ribs. His skin is hot underneath his thighs, a blush spread from his face to his abdomen that’s lingered since they started back up again-- it’s just another in a long list of little things Javier loves about Arthur, and it makes him smile when Arthur’s eyes rake down his body and land hungrily on his cock. He can feel Arthur breathing between his legs, and the unusuality of the situation is all the more arousing. He inhales slowly, blinks twice. His palms rest on his thighs as he settles his knees in a comfortable position, just under Arthur’s armpits. He breathes out quietly, and Arthur gulps. Arthur can’t see Albert behind Javier, but he knows the man is waiting on his signal. Charles is leaned on the pillows, expression barely hiding his eagerness. He can’t see much more of his body beyond the vague outline underneath the quilt.

“Push your tits together for me,” Javier says in a whisper, and if that doesn’t get Arthur’s cock stirring in interest already--

He doesn’t say anything, only nods twice. His knuckles dig into the soft flesh there, and he rolls his palms to press up, press his soft tits together. 

Albert hands Javier the almost-empty tin of vaseline from somewhere behind him, and Javier gathers up what’s left onto his fingers, warms it slightly between them, and he leans down-- parts his lips and takes a nipple into his mouth, licking,  _ sucking _ \-- Arthur  _ moans.  _ Javier moves to the other nipple, pressed close against Arthur’s knuckles, the softness giving in to the crescent-moon marks of his fingernails, and he  _ bites,  _ just under the pink flesh, and Arthur’s light chest hair is soft against the tongue that soothes the reddening skin. Arthur squirms below him.

“Javi,” he groans. 

“ _ Patience _ , patience,” Javier coos. He leans back, careful not to press all of his weight to Arthur’s ribs. He moves his hand to Arthur’s chest, and he slips his fingers into the space between his tits easily. Arthur’s breath hitches at the sensation, how unexpectedly  _ sensitive  _ his skin is there. He can feel the rough pads of his fingers drag slick against his skin, the gentle scratch of calluses against his fine chest hair. A thumb works his nipple, and he bites his lip to keep ahold of himself, flexes his thighs where Albert’s hand still grips him reassuringly.

Javier works the vaseline into Arthur, the tight but space between his pecs, and he draws his gaze up to Charles, watching hungrily as the man slowly works his cock under the blanket. Albert makes an impatient noise behind him, and Javier huffs a quiet laugh. 

“Alright,  _ mi corazon _ . Start slowly.” 

Albert sighs in relief. He strokes himself once, parts Arthur’s knees a little wider, and guides himself into his leaking entrance. He pushes the head in easily and he doesn’t hold back a groan. He can’t see Arthur’s face, but the way he draws up a leg to hook behind Albert’s knee, opening up to the contact, reassures him, and Albert tries to rein in his eagerness a bit, to savor this like Javier and Charles are, make it as comfortable as he can for their Arthur. He shifts his hips, slowly, and he can feel Arthur clench around him. He bites his lip and simply revels in the methodically slow slide of his cock, just as Javier instructed.

Javier, watching Arthur’s expression morph from foggy arousal to sharp, intense  _ desire _ , smiles smugly and decides to get it on with. Just a glance at Charles tells him enough-- the hunter’s eyes flick between Arthur’s tits and Javier’s cock, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to misinterpret  _ that.  _ “You can go faster now,” he instructs over his shoulder, and Albert obeys, eagerly picking up the pace of his gentle thrusting-- Arthur’s face goes red and his mouth falls open, and Javier takes the opportunity to slip his cock into the space between his tits, slick and delectably  _ hot  _ against his length. “ _ God, Arthur, _ ” he gasps, and leans forward to brace himself on Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur’s fingernails sting against his own skin, and he feels the shape of Javier’s cock move haltingly through the soft flesh under his hands. 

Arthur almost loses it right then and there-- the slit of Javier’s cock pokes through right below his chin, and all he wants to do is lean down and suck him through his pleasure, take him between his lips and fill his mouth while Albert fills his ass, and his thrusts are driving him closer to completion than he’d rather admit. Somewhere in the back of Arthur’s mind, he hopes Charles has a good view, but before he draws the strength to look up at him, he feels a firm hand on his head, carding its way through his long hair, and he doesn’t hold back a whine.  _ God,  _ he needs  _ more.  _ “Al--” he breathes out, and he feels Albert’s hands grip his ass harder, stuttering in his pace. “ _ Faster _ , please, please,” he begs, and sweat rolls down his forehead, can feel it wind its way down his temple and wet his hair. Javier, rolling his hips and just looking like a picture of composure, hushes Arthur. He presses his thumb into the corner of his mouth, and Arthur eagerly tongues it, rolls it against the soft flesh at the inside of his cheek, and Javier lets out a shaky exhale through shining lips.

Charles tugs at his own cock, quilt draped over only his shoulders now, as he watches his lovers with hunger in his eyes, letting out little grunts on every stroke. His other hand winds its way through the tangle of Arthur’s sandy brown hair, and  _ fuck,  _ the sounds Arthur’s making are music to his ears.

“You’re doing so well Arthur,” Javier says, and Arthur whines around his thumb. Takes it between his molars, applying pressure enough to dent the skin, and Javier  _ hisses,  _ thrusts his cock harder against Arthur’s slick tits, lets out a wanton moan. “Amazing, Arthur, so good,” Javier says without a thought, and Charles’ hand gathers the long hair between his fingers and  _ pulls,  _ and that’s it. That does it for Arthur. He comes again, untouched between the three of them, with Albert ramming into him and Javier taking his pleasure above him, he leaks what little he has left onto the mess he’s already made of his leg hair. 

“ _ Arthur _ ,” Charles groans out, and his hand speeds up on his cock as he watches his lover come  _ undone _ , watches Javier fucking his chest like it’s the hundredth time they’ve done this, but he holds off, grips the base of his cock tight-- he doesn’t want to come until Javier’s blown his load all over Arthur’s face. “Javier, please--” he groans out,  _ please hurry up, please let me come--  _ he isn’t sure what he’s begging the man for but Javier seems to get the message. He thrusts into Arthur’s tits, pushing them tighter together with his own hands when Arthur’s falter through his orgasm, and Javier can feel himself thrusting in time with Albert behind him-- Arthur is limp below them, boneless and breathing hard-- in the end, that’s what sets Javier off. That smell of sweat and spunk and Arthur’s breath so close at his cockhead-- his hips catch and he doubles over in a blinding release, not even realizing until he’s done that Arthur’s come down slightly from his high to catch Javier’s milky spend on his stubble, his neck, his lips--  _ christ,  _ even his eyebrow-- and he lets up from holding Arthur’s chest so tightly, and realizes belatedly he’s probably going to have faint bruises there. He takes a second to breathe, laugh a little apology to Arthur, and look to Charles. Turns to Albert behind him, and sees both thoroughly spent, both in their own respective afterglows-- Charles is leaning heavily on his arm, ropes of come already soaking into the sheet above Arthur’s head, probably a little in the man’s hair too-- and Albert, still sheathed inside and panting hard, leaning most of his weight against Arthur’s leg draped over his shoulder. 

Arthur seems a little loopy underneath the two of them, eyelids sagging and a dopey smile on his face, uncaring that half of it is covered in Javier’s seed. “ _ Shit.  _ Ghh-- good?” he pants.

Javier can’t muster many words right now, he’s too damn tired, but he knows how Arthur needs the praise, loves the reassurance. He still loves him for it. “You’re too good for us, Arthur.  _ Mi corazon. Mi amore _ ,” he whispers. Arthur grins, wide and tired. Javier’s cock is hot against his slick chest.

Albert presses a kiss to the inside of Arthur’s knee and pulls out his flagging dick. A stream of spend flows out of his thoroughly abused hole, and the man simply takes a moment to admire the sight of it as the ring of muscle bares down, clenching around nothing. He can hear Arthur let out a groan, and he bites his cheek to keep from grinning. He moves to Arthur’s side and flops on his back. “Javier is right, darling. Far... Far too good for us.” 

Javier gets up from the bed on shaky feet, rubs his sore thighs. “ _ Dios mio,  _ feels like I’ve been riding a damn horse all day,” he grouses.

Arthur shoots him a cheeky, tired, smile. “Blame Charles, n’t me,” he drawls.

Charles chuckles. He runs his fingers through Arthur’s hair again. “Can’t say I’m sorry. That was hot.”

“Ah, whatever,” he waves him off, laughing. “C’mon, you all need a bath.”

“Carry me?” Arthur asks to the open air. He receives a couple noncommittal “alright’s” in response, and he smiles contentedly.  _ How did he get so damn spoiled _ , he thinks through the fog over his mind.

Javier walks to the sink to grab a few dry towels, wipes the slick off his own flaccid cock, and tosses the other towels to his lovers, still unmoving on the bed.

“Come on. You bastards stink like sex,” he says. “Bathtime.”

“I like that smell,” Arthur says tiredly. He doesn’t bother to wipe himself off. Javier  _ tsks  _ at him before turning to head to the little washroom to prepare a bath. Lights a few candles to stave off the early dark of the season, though he’s not sure if it still counts as early in the day, he lost track of the time shortly after their nap. The big tub in the middle of the room is already filled with clean water, but it’s a bit cool. He drains off about half with a big bucket and carries it to the stove in the kitchen. By the time he turns to the bed, Albert’s head is buried between Arthur’s legs, licking his ass clean, and the man’s head is thrown back on Charles’ lap while the hunter braids his hair. 

Javier smiles. He watches a change in Albert’s angle draw Arthur’s muscles taut and loose again, moaning tired sighs against his knuckles. Charles is unaffected as his hands work out a knot in Arthur’s long hair.

“Is this how we bathe now?” Javier asks. Charles shoots him a smile, and Arthur drunkenly grins.

“Kinda wish it was,” Charles says, looking down at Albert, still hard at work between Arthur’s legs. He probably didn’t even hear Javier come back in.

Javier makes a face, turns back to the stove to check the water temperature. It’ll take a while, so he settles back against the counter to watch his lovers. Albert’s always amused him like that, so eager to please with his tongue, and though Javier wasn’t a huge fan of being on the receiving  _ or  _ the giving end of  _ that _ , the way Arthur responded so eagerly to getting his ass eaten was just arousing as all hell. Fuck, his cock was stirring back to life just  _ watching. Ah _ , it appears Charles isn’t so unaffected by the sight before him either. Javier smiles to himself. Charles always acts the stoik one, he doesn’t know why he’s ever surprised anymore when the facade falls away.

“God, fuck, Al-- Al, harder--” Arthur lurches suddenly, alarmingly close to coming again. He chases the feeling down. “ _ Right there, right there- _ -” and he’s clenching hard around Albert’s tongue and fingers, orgasm hitting him again in waves of heat, and Charles holds his hand through it while he tries not to press his thighs too tight around Albert’s ears. “ _ Fuck, fuck _ ,” he gasps out, and there’s no spend this time, just that almost-clear precum that drips from the slit in his cock into Albert’s mussed hair, and Arthur relaxes heavily around him. 

He licks a final wet stripe from his entrance up to the underside of his cock, and Arthur’s breath hitches. Albert moves up to plant a kiss on his lips, just a light peck, then moves higher to plant another on Charles’. The man hums and pulls Albert’s head back in to deepen the kiss, and he tastes Arthur on his tongue. 

Javier simply watches with a contented smile. He adjusts his erection, already half-mast, but doesn’t move to pursue it. The water is almost ready on the stove.

“Come on, idiotas.  _ Now  _ it’s bathtime,” he says, and pulls the big bucket off of the stove to lug it back to the bathtub.

The thing is large enough for two,  _ maybe three  _ if they can manage it, but for the most part, they have a system worked out alright. Charles and Albert carry their Arthur to the tub, the man laughing between them at the state he’s been reduced to, and they pile in. Javier dons a robe against the cool air and sets to work washing Arthur while their lovers wipe themselves clean in the comfortably warm water, with their nice flowery bar soap and washcloths. Javier works a lather into Arthur’s hair, and if the man wasn’t already a puddle underneath his fingers, he’d be melting against the angled wall of the tub.

“Mmmmn,” he practically purrs. Javier smiles contentedly, working gentle circles into his scalp, running the lather down the long strands. He stifles a yawn, and soon enough, Charles gives up his spot in the tub for Javier to get in. He gives him a light pat on the ass as he leaves, ignoring Javier’s mock-outrage with a smile.

Javier cleans himself thoroughly, paying special attention to his hair, before the three of them find a comfortable way to recline against the sides of the tub, just soaking in the warmth. They breathe deeply, and the room smells of soap and steam and a little like sex.

“Was today alright?” Albert breaks the companionable silence. Arthur starts from his dozing.

“Mm. Fuckin’ great,” he responds with a slightly drunken smile. “How many... How many times was that? Did y’all keep track?”

The two shake their heads. “Lost count,” Javier says, and grins. “Must be a good sign though, hm?”

Arthur chuckles, that wheeze of a laugh they’re all so fond of. “S’ppose so.”

The water cools down again eventually, and they get out of the tub one by one, toweling off and grabbing robes from the hooks on the wall. Javier helps Arthur out of the bath, and they meet Charles on the bed, sheets freshly changed. The room is so comfortably warm that Arthur could probably pass out standing up.

“I took the pot roast out of the oven,” Charles says as he snakes his arms around Arthur’s waist once he’s sat down.

“Thank you Charles. ‘M fuckin’ starving,” he says, leaning back into Charles’ weight.

Albert takes his turn to serve their dinner of slow-cooked venison and bread rolls, the largest portion going to Arthur, and they all eat ravenously. They barely have time enough to savor Arthur’s cooking, but nobody’s complaining. It’s a miracle they actually have hot food right now; without Arthur’s foresight, they’d probably have had to make do with their provisions. Charles voices as much, and Arthur practically glows at the praise. 

The pot roast is soon gone, their bellies are full and warm, and Albert gathers their dishes to stow them in the sink. 

Their unusual little outlaw quartet is complete again when Al rejoins them on the bed, and in their fresh sheets and bathrobes, they cuddle up underneath a big quilt and fall asleep in each other’s embrace, listening to the familiar beats of one another’s hearts, the comfortable rise and fall of each other’s breaths. Arthur falls asleep to his three partners’ hands warm against his waist.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, this was edited as I went, so apologies for errors. Thanks to all y'all on discord keepin me going with the constant inspiration also!! Comments and kudos appreciated ;3
> 
> AYO, COWPOKES WHO JUST WANNA SEE ARTHUR BE LOVED MAKE SOME NOISE 🎉


End file.
